


Paris Holds the Key to Her Heart

by queenofpendragons



Category: Mr. Selfridge (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 10:44:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16016279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenofpendragons/pseuds/queenofpendragons
Summary: "And you-" ..."Will walk out of her life forever." ...."But-" ..."Princesses don't marry kitchen boys."A reimagining of the season 3 finale's events with Violette Selfridge and Victor Colleano.





	Paris Holds the Key to Her Heart

**Author's Note:**

> A little oneshot I wrote ages ago of what should have been in the season finale of Mr. Selfridge season 3. I'm rewatching the show and my heart is breaking all over again over this ship dying so I had to post this on FF to make myself feel better.

_"I haven't been able to stop thinking of you since the other night. I've missed you so much. And when I saw you again, I realised it."_

_"We're too different. All this... it's not a world you could ever belong to."_

Violette's fingers numbly grasped onto a gown, tugging it out of her wardrobe to stuff it in her bag. Every single word that had been spoken between her and Victor was repeating on loop in her head, sometimes in coherent sentences, sometimes in a jumble that made her almost start crying all over again. What had made her think she could change his mind? She had thought deeply about his change of heart, and it hadn't taken long for her to realize it had occurred that day on a picnic by the sea. That was the day Victor had decided Violette did not belong in the risky, illicit world he had built for himself at the club.

Violette shoved another gown away with more force than necessary, trying to block out the images of Victor when she'd gone to see him one last time from her head. But whenever she tried to think about something else, like her new destination, or Jacques, Victor infiltrated her thoughts all over again. Her heart had never been broken the way he'd caused it to break. And to think it had happened to Violette Selfridge, the little suffragette who always knew what she wanted and was always determined to keep men on their toes.

_"I could try."_

_"Beautiful hands..._ _Never seen a day's work."_

_"You think I'm spoilt. And it's true. I've been given so much... just not the things I've always wanted._   
_But I can change. I can become a better person. For you, I can. Please, Victor, give me this chance."_

Violette lost control and in an instant she was on the floor, her skirt crumpled around her as she sobbed relentlessly. Her body felt weak and she felt as sick as when she'd had the flu as a child. A timid knock sounded from the door and she was tugged out of the despair for a brief moment. "Go away, Pa!" she managed to choke out, trying to sound firm although it came out far more wavery than she had intended.

"It's not Pa," the female voice responded softly. "It's Rosalie."

Violette immediately relaxed and stayed silent, not wanting to send her sister away but also not in the mood to approve her entry. Rosalie made the decision herself and walked in, coming over to her sister tentatively. The graceful eldest Selfridge approached her sister and sat carefully next to her on the rug covered floor, sympathy in her gentle eyes. Violette felt ashamed, her cheeks warm and wet and her hair probably a mess.

"You told me not to give up on love and look where it's gotten me," Violette whispered, her round brown eyes finally meeting her sister's in an almost accusatory stare. "Look at what's happened- it's all ruined!"

As as she grew hysterical, Rosalie pulled her in close and held on tight. Violette inhaled her sister's calming, floral scent and began to cry again. Rosalie stroked Violette's auburn waves tenderly, letting her sister get it all out.

"It's not your fault," she assured in a firm voice, still gripping Violette's slender torso. "You gave him all that you could and that was all you could do. It's his fault for losing you- for losing everything he could have had."

"I know why he did it," Violette finally murmured, pulling away from her sister with silent tears streaming down her face and an emptiness in her eyes. "I know why, but it still hurts so much, Rosalie. I just wish he would have chose me. No one has ever chosen me the way he did."

Rosalie nodded slowly, understanding her sister's pain. Her own marriage had not been smooth sailing at first, and it hurt to see her sister have to endure a broken heart as well.

"I'm sorry, Violette," Rosalie said sincerely, stroking her sister's cheek. "But please, don't go. Not with Jacques- you don't love him, I know you."

Violette seemed to toughen up again and shook her head. "I'm making my own decisions now, and I'm not letting my heart tell me what to do. It's done, Rosalie."

The young Selfridge stood back up, her legs numb but her spirit strong. "I need to finish packing before he arrives."

Rosalie knew there was no changing her sister's stubborn nature, and she was much too passive to anger her before she left for who knows how long. So she got up, smoothed out her dress, and turned to leave. Before exiting she glanced back at her sister once, who was busy finishing up her packing with a distracted look on her soft features. Then she softly shut the door, going back down the staircase with a heart almost as broken as her sister's.

_"I'm sorry, Violette. No."_

_"Is that your last word on it?... I hate who I am!"_

_"Don't say that. You're wonderful."_

Violette grabbed a bag in each hand and made her way downstairs, coat on and legs shaky. Her father was downstairs, clearly having been crying after having ended things with Nancy Webb.  
  
"It would be funny if it wasn't so tragic. We're a pathetic bunch. We can't get anyone to love us."  
  
Harry looked up at his daughter, trying to disguise his pain for her sake.  
  
"Violette..."  
  
"I'm still in love with Victor Colleano. I don't think I'll ever get over him."  
  
Minutes later, after all attempts of persuading Violette to stay, she was walking down the corridor.  
  
"Don't do this," Harry pleaded as he grabbed her arm.  
  
"Goodbye, Pa," she murmured before walking away.

_"And some man is going to be very lucky to have you."_

A light drizzle had started outside in the dark London night and Jacques hurried over to the automobile to get the bags in. Violette stepped into the drizzle, feeling refreshed as the water stuck to her face and hair. With one final, ridiculous feeling of hope she looked around, half-expecting something to save what was left of her heart. But there was no one coming to reclaim her love. Violette began towards their ride, her heels clicking against the pavement before a voice called out to her.

"Violette!"

She whirled around and peered through the dark and rain to see who was calling for her.

"Victor?" she first asked, unsure. But as the figure grew familiar, she could not stop the excitement that bubbled up inside of her. "Victor!"

She began to run towards him, forgetting Jacques and forgetting France as that voice spoke her name. Soon he was right in front of her, his slick raven hair unruly as the loose tendrils curled on his forehead, his suit all wet from his jog.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, blinking raindrops out of her vision as he took shallow breaths, clearly exhausted from hurrying over to her home.

"What d'you think?" he breathed out, managing a chuckle though his gaze remained serious.

"Coming to ruin my life further, Victor Colleano?" she prompted, her excitement turning to distaste just like that. "If you're coming to say sorry, you're too late. I gave you too many chances and I refuse to let my heart get broken anymore by you."

Victor frowned lightly, his eyes losing all brightness at her words. "I didn't think anyone could break your heart," he said lamely, licking his lips and watching her intently.

"I didn't think so either," she replied, tearing up again and her lips quivering. "But you're not just anyone, Victor, are you?"

He chuckled again, although there was hardly any real amusement in it.

"No, I'm not," he agreed, a crooked smile coming onto his face. "I'm the biggest arsehole Britain has ever had. Because I am the only man in this entire country- no, in this entire world- who could ever turn you away."

"Well, you did," she pointed out, her voice beginning to betray to pain and the tears threatening to come out.

"I did," he agreed again, his smile disappearing. "And I want to take it all back. Don't go to Paris, Violette. You don't belong there and you don't belong with him. For Pete's sake you were just making fun of Frenchie the other day when you were with me! You'd never last in France, you know you wouldn't."

She let out a sniffle of a laugh and her brows crinkled up as she tried to stay firm.

"What about everything you said?" she asked, referencing the very conversation she had been unable to get out of her head all evening.

"Letting you go- pushing you away was the hardest thing I've ever had to do!" he suddenly burst out, his voice full of regret. "You don't belong in everything I've gotten mixed up in Violette- I realized it that day we went by the coast. You were sitting there, so beautiful and young and carefree... And the last thing I wanted was to change that. Change you. With the darkness and the danger I've gotten myself into."

He looked her full on in the eyes, his jaw set. "You deserve more than I could give you, so I had to break your heart."

Violette stared at him, silent and the only sounds the pouring rain and Jacques calling for Violette again.

"Victor Colleano, you are the biggest dope I have ever met in my entire life!" she scolded, crying all over again. "I don't care what you've gotten yourself into! I've been to your club and I've put myself in it, all for you! All my life I've tried to prove my independence and loving you was one of the most independent things I've ever done!"

She bit her lip, shaking her head as she tried to calm her sobs. "The things my father has gotten into... I can handle it, Victor! I can handle anything as long as I have you."

"You're the strongest bloody woman I know," he suddenly grinned, looking amazed by her resilience. "And I'm sorry I was so stupid. And look, I'm trying to change things around me- for you. If you want to have a life with me, that is. 'Cause I knew I wanted to be with you the moment I walked in on you sitting at my desk, lounging there as if you owned the place. You owned me right there, Violette Selfridge."

The young woman smiled widely and flung her arms around Victor, kissing him with the passion and energy that had flowed through her that day they drove in the middle of nowhere to the coast, her scarf flying free behind her.

Victor wrapped his arms around her torso tightly, all of his despair thrust into the kiss. He had let Agnes walk away from him years ago. And he had tried to walk away from Violette. But not this time, he would not be a coward.

"Mr. Colleano!"

The pair broke away from each other and looked towards the front door of the Selfridge's home, where Harry stood in the doorway.

"You have a lot of explaining to do!" Harry continued to call over. "Both of you better get inside before you catch your death!"

Violette looked behind her at Jacques, who stood near the automobile quietly in the downpour. She felt some sadness inside of her for what she was doing to the very kind man who had almost been her future.

But as she looked at Victor again, everything felt okay. Here was the man who was very lucky to have her- forever.


End file.
